


Broken Shards

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Canon-Divergence Post 2x10, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Reference to canon abuse, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: “Are you-” She hesitated. “Are you okay?” Unsure. Cautious. It wasn’t right. That wasn’t Lucy. She wasn’t cautious or unsure of anything. (Until him. He messed that up, messed her up, just like he messed everything up. Jessica. Jiya. Rufus. What on earth was he going to do with a kid?)





	Broken Shards

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I guess I'm back. It was a good break, and I'm glad I took it, but I definitely missed everyone. 
> 
> This is a prompt fill for Bad Things Happen Bingo, and a gift to an anonymous Tumblr user, who requested Wyatt having a panic attack and Lucy being the caretaker. Somehow, this spiraled into dealing with Wyatt's unresolved emotional trauma. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.

He couldn’t breathe.

Fluorescent lights hummed, seeming far too loud around him. Was this how Lucy felt when she got into the Lifeboat? How did she do it? The walls seemed to be closing in on him, suffocating him, trapping him in the tiny bunker washroom, with nothing but his own reflection for company.

(His reflection. Not his father’s. Right? But the bunker always seemed so dark, the lights were flickering and weak, and in the shadows, he could almost see the man who broke him.)

He was fine. Not broken. Not damaged. He drove the truck into the lake, and he was fine.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, the words echoing in the nearly empty room. Taunting him. (Even his voice was the same, these days.) “I’m not him. Okay? I’m fine. I’m-” His words were lost in a growl as he struck, punching the wall in front of him, throwing every ounce of frustration into the action.

“Wyatt?” The door opened, just a crack, and Lucy’s soft voice floated through. He didn’t-couldn’t-look.

“Yeah?” His hand throbbed, and he glanced down, wincing. His knuckles were cracked and bloody.

“Are you-” She hesitated. “Are you okay?” Unsure. Cautious. It wasn’t right. That wasn’t Lucy. She wasn’t cautious or unsure of anything. (Until him. He messed that up, messed her up, just like he messed everything up. Jessica. Jiya. Rufus. What on earth was he going to do with a kid?)

“I’m-” Fine, he tried to say, but the word stuck in his throat. He ordered his brain to force it out, but it just wouldn’t come. “I’m-”

Footsteps. She was coming toward him, slow but steady. “Wyatt?” He couldn’t answer. Her hand rested on his arm, tentatively, and he absently noted that it was the first time she’d touched him since that horrifying day, when he’d been so angry and afraid that he’d caught her in a strike meant for Flynn. He could hardly stand to think of it. He could still see her, in his mind’s eye, her hand flying to her mouth, tears springing up in her eyes.

A soft gasp distracted him from his thoughts, and he turned his attention back to Lucy. Her gaze was fixed on his hands, soft and horrified. “What happened?”

Suddenly ashamed, he pulled away. “It was nothing. I was just… Being stupid. It’s stupid. Don’t worry about it.” He needed to get out of there. Where he was going to go, he wasn’t sure, because everywhere he turned, there were traces of Jessica, or darting glances from betrayed teammates, but he couldn’t stay there anymore, couldn’t stand her looking at him with such gentle concern. “I need to-”

“Wait.” Quiet, but firm. Unyielding. (Now, that sounded more like Lucy.) “Let me…” She maneuvered around him, as he stood frozen, unable to refuse her.

Within seconds, she had a warm, wet rag, and was reaching for his hands. For just a brief second, she hesitated, and he could practically feel the memories tugging at her, just as they tugged at him, but then she swallowed hard, and set to work. Slowly, with impossible care, she ran the rag over each knuckle, never applying too much pressure, just enough to rinse away the blood.

He couldn’t find his voice, so he simply watched, mouth half-open, grasping for words that weren’t there.

With the work of cleaning done, she moved on to a small bottle of ointment, dipping her fingers in, and applying it to the damaged skin. It was cold, and he couldn’t help but flinch in surprise. “Sorry,” she murmured, finishing up the last knuckle.

His racing heart had calmed a little, and he took a breath, shaking his head. “‘s fine.” How did she do it? How could she calm him down when the entire world seemed to be spinning out of control? (And why would she, after the things he’d done?)

She didn’t respond, but started rifling through the cabinets again, searching for something else.

Without quite meaning to, he spoke.

“I’m going to have a kid.”

She stilled for a brief moment, before continuing, responding in a deceptively light tone. “I know.”

Right. Of course she did. Of course she knew that he got his wife pregnant, while she was right down the hall. This whole bunker thing didn’t really allow for healthy breakups, did it? “I don’t-Lucy, you know what my dad was like. I can’t just-” He groaned, shutting his eyes tightly. “I don’t know how to be a dad.”

A soft pressure on his hand distracted him, and he opened his eyes to see her wrapping it in gauze. “You don’t have to-” He started, but she shook her head warningly, and he didn’t push. The last thing he wanted to do was tell her what to do-again-so he just went silent.

At length, she spoke. “I think you’ll be a great dad.” Her voice was so quiet, he could barely hear her, but the words settled in his soul, nonetheless.

“I’m just… So scared I’m going to hurt them.” The images wouldn’t leave his mind. Him getting a little too angry. Lashing out. His child-

“You won’t,” she said firmly, tucking the gauze in place. Nodding in satisfaction at her work, she stepped back, looking him up and down. “You’re not your father, Wyatt. You don’t have to be like him.”

He wanted to believe her, wanted it badly, but uncertainty clawed at him, and he reached out, grabbing the sink in front of him to steady himself. “How? How do I keep from becoming… That?” He shuddered a little at the thought.

There was an odd note to her voice when she answered. “You look at everything your father did that hurt you, and you make sure to never do that to anyone else. Especially your kid.” Her eyes were steely and determined, and he wasn’t quite sure she was talking about him. “You don’t let him define you. And…” She faltered. “If you really want to know about being a father…” He realized where this was going a half-second before she said it. “Maybe you should talk to Flynn.”

“Absolutely not,” He answered automatically, and she scoffed.

“He’s not so bad, you know? And he’s been a lifesaver since he got out of prison. Literally.”

There was some truth to that, of course. Flynn had been more than picking up his slack during the entire Jessica debacle, and it hadn’t escaped Wyatt’s notice. Honestly, maybe that was the worst of it: The man who had hurt them all was now being weirdly reliable, and even trustworthy. Maybe he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But the thought of going to him, of asking him for parenting advice, of all things… It was humiliating. “Maybe,” he allowed, and she eyed him skeptically, but didn’t push.

“Good.” She gave him a final once-over, as if looking for any other damage, before turning to go.

_‘You look at everything your father did you hurt you, and you make sure to never do that to anyone else.’_

What had his father done? He’d called him horrible things, locked him in the trunk of a car, beaten him within an inch of his life…. And never even apologized.

Suddenly determined, he cleared his throat. “Lucy?” She hesitated, and he took a breath. All this time, and he hadn’t apologized since that first day, hadn’t even been able to find the words for it. How do you apologize for breaking someone’s heart when you were supposed to protect it? But he knew it was time. “I’m sorry.”

She started to shake her head, brushing him off, but he stood his ground. “I need to say this. Ever since Jessica came back, the only thing I’ve done is hurt you.” His gaze darted to a bruise near her lip. Probably from Emma, but it could have just as easily come from him. “Believe me, that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. So I’m going to try to do better. But if I do something stupid again…” Oh, he was gonna regret this. “Tell Flynn he can punch me.”

A startled laugh slipped from her lips. (And oh, that felt good. Being the one to make her laugh-really laugh-again? He loved it.) “Thank you, Wyatt. Really.” She hesitated. Smiled at him, small but sincere. “You’re a good man.”

It was utterly untrue, and he knew it, but something in the conviction of her words made him want to believe it, nonetheless. He wanted to wrap himself up in them, to play them on repeat in his head until they drowned out his father’s voice, angry and destructive.

Instead, he took a breath, and looked up at the mirror. His own reflection stared back, not a ghost of a man long gone, and he exhaled, a hint of a smile flickering across his face.

For the first time in ages, he was calm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I know Lyatt isn't my normal bag, so thank you to everyone who read anyway. Please let me know what you think; I hoard reviews like a dragon. Take care!


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